


On the Innovative Use of Ivy

by ladydoor



Category: Green Men Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Anniversary, Date Night, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Ice Play, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Tied Hands, Trust, creative use of ivy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydoor/pseuds/ladydoor
Summary: Randolph and Saul celebrate their first anniversary. Randolph has ideas and Saul is in for a treat.
Relationships: Randolph Glyde/Saul Lazenby
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	On the Innovative Use of Ivy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/gifts).



> I really hope I fulfilled your expectations of this fic. 
> 
> Beta-read by chibinocho and one of my fellow fic writers who wants to stay anonymous.
> 
> Note: it is difficult to figure out what someone writes on your skin. But not impossible. I'm asking you to suspend your disbelief for a moment because this is the hill I'm willing to die on :))

Saul thought his heart might burst out of his chest with happiness. It wasn’t, admittedly, the reaction anybody else would have to watching Sam trying to teach Barney and Max how to play chess. Neither of the two was suitable for the game but Sam was determined to broaden their horizons and to bring variety to rare lazy evenings at Fetter Lane, rather than the usual endless rounds of cards.

Both Barney and Max preferred straightforward solutions to long term strategic planning required by chess. If something couldn’t be solved by force, you just have to apply more force, that was their motto. They weren’t really equipped for chess and Sam, gradually reaching the end of his tether, seemed to finally acknowledge this and give up. He was remarkably patient to last that long, Saul reflected. Much more patient than Randolph, who would have never even attempted that exercise. With one exception, the mere thought of which made Saul shift in his armchair, Randolph was very much not a patient man. 

Saul was waiting for Randolph, who had promised to take him to dinner in Café Royal as a celebration of the first anniversary of their first evening there. He was wearing evening clothes again, only these ones had been cut for him by Randolph’s tailor, despite his protests which had - of course - been ignored.

It was then, while he was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, sipping tea and watching his friends argue over the chessboard that he realized he was profoundly, deeply happy. He had a roof over his head and a warm bed, often made warmer by his lover’s presence. He had a job - a dangerous job that he still tried to learn to do but that gave him a sense of purpose again. He had friends he could rely on and for whom he would do everything in return. And he had Randolph. 

“Shop!” called the man in question from the hall.

“Here!” Sam and Saul called back simultaneously. Barney and Max didn’t even bother to answer.

Saul thought he couldn’t get any happier but when Randolph appeared in the doorway to the library, he found out he could. His lover’s good looks were only enhanced by a superbly cut suit and a gleam in his eyes that promised interesting things to come later that night. Saul suddenly wished they could skip the dinner but good things come to those who wait and he was admittedly hungry.

“Ready?” Randolph asked.

_ Always _ . “Yes.”

“I gather we shouldn’t expect you back this evening?” Sam grinned. “Try not to flood the city this time.”

“Not fair!” Saul exclaimed, his cheeks colouring. That particular incident Sam was referring to was apparently going to haunt him to his grave. He and Randolph had strolled through St James’ Park and Saul, still fresh at using his newly acquired affinity to nature and determined to train whenever possible, had attempted to make the water in the lake stir. And stir it did, to a quite spectacular effect. He had flooded half of the park and sent the waterfowl scattering in supernatural fear. That close to Buckingham Palace and Whitehall, it was bound to cause panic of some subversive attack and the incident received wide press coverage. And it pissed off the Shadow Ministry, which may have been the only good thing about it.

“Come on,” Randolph urged, his voice tinted with amusement, and held the door for him. 

Café Royal was splendid as always. They dined well, opting for almost the same menu as a year ago. The taste brought Saul back to that evening with shocking vividness. He recalled the happiness and blissful feeling of being fucked for the first time by this amazing man but also the uncertainty of the future and the pressure of the enormous responsibility ahead of him. He felt his throat tighten with things he couldn’t say in public.

Randolph was watching him, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Would you have any objections to skipping dessert?”

“Are you watching your waistline?” Saul inquired innocently.

Randolph’s lips curved. He leaned forward and whispered: “No, but I want to watch your waistline, and the rest of you, naked. And I prefer to do so sooner rather than later.”

That filthy drawl of his went straight to Saul’s groin. He gave Randolph a tiny nod, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

They paid in a hurry, giving the impression of gentlemen suddenly in need to attend a pressing and serious business, which was the absolute truth of the matter.

*

The walk home lasted millenia, Saul thought. They hadn’t had much time for themselves lately, with the closure of the Geoffrey de Mandeville business. It took almost a year to track down the culprits and to bring justice upon them and it was both time and strength consuming. He was sure that the break wouldn’t last long but he was determined to enjoy the hell out of it while it did.

He wanted to get his hands on Randolph the moment they closed the door behind them, but Randolph beat him to it, pressed him against the wooden door, one thigh grinding against Saul’s groin, and kissed him.

“My god, you are irresistible today. You are always irresistible, don’t get me wrong, but today… Maybe it’s the evening clothes,” Randolph said. 

Saul stroked Randolph’s smoothly shaven jawline with his fingertips.

“Or maybe it’s because I’m happy,” he said, smiling into his lover’s eyes.

Randolph was silent for a moment, then his smile widened. 

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I make you even more happy?” Randolph asked and raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“I don’t know, can you?” Saul quipped and let himself be dragged to Randolph’s bedroom. 

The room was quiet and dim and Randolph went to switch the bedside lamp on. When he turned back to face Saul, his expression was more serious. He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged Saul down to join him. They were facing each other, knees touching. The light from the lamp illuminated only the right half of Randolph’s face, leaving the rest in the shadows. He kept the grip on Saul’s hands and stroked the knuckles with his thumbs. 

“I want to try something with you, I’m positive you’ll enjoy it but… It could bring back bad memories and I would hate to hurt you in any way.”

“Go on?” Saul prompted, wondering what was going on. It was unusual for Randolph to be this apprehensive. 

“I’d like to blindfold you and tie your hands.”

“Oh,” Saul exhaled. 

Before he could say more, Randolph added hastily: “In a way that you could get out if you needed and also I’d stop whenever you say,” 

It was obvious what Randolph referred to. To have his eyes covered wouldn’t be bad but with his hands tied, Saul saw how easily it could… But no. This was Randolph. Saul trusted him with his life.

“Alright,” he said carefully, “and then what?”

“Only good things.”

“You’re not going to tell me,” Saul realized.

“No. It’s a part of the… hm… thrill, not to know,” Randolph shrugged and a small, playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I should be probably used to it by now,” Saul sighed. “Well. I trust you.”

“Thank you. But promise me you won’t try to overcome fear and let me know the moment it becomes uncomfortable for you. I know your stiff upper lip well, Saul, and I don’t want that today. I want to give you pleasure, not a challenge. Understand?” His expression was serious again.

Saul nodded and Randolph took a gentle hold of his chin.

“I need words.”

“Yes,” Saul breathed out, acutely aware of his growing arousal.

Randolph kissed the tip of his nose and rose from the bed with determination. 

“Undress and make yourself comfortable on the bed, will you? I’ll be right back.”

Saul shook his head in amused resignation, took off his suit and hung it carefully to prevent creases. Then he took off his drawers and stretched out on top of Randolph’s large bed, hands behind his head. He heard his lover pottering around the flat and wondered what he had gotten himself into.

Randolph appeared in the doorway with a box and something covered by a cloth. He set both aside, took a sleeping mask from the bedside table drawer and sat on the bed. He showed the mask to Saul.

“Ready?”

Saul swallowed, eyes trained on the mask, and Randolph ran his hand over Saul’s side and hip.

“You can have second thoughts, anytime. It won’t disappoint me. It’s not about me.” 

Saul caught his lover’s hand and kissed the palm.

“I trust you. Do it.”

Randolph nodded and fastened the mask over Saul’s eyes.

“Alright? Not too tight?”

Saul shook his head.

“Words, Saul.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Good. Stretch your arms over your head and put them into a position you are comfortable to be in for some time.” 

As Saul did so, it occurred to him that Randolph’s bed had the headboard from a solid panel of wood and there wasn’t any bedpost to tie his hands to.

Then Randolph whispered a word and there was a quiet rustle from above Saul’s head. His hands and wrists were enveloped in a caressing embrace of vines and leaves and the smell of fresh greenery filled the air. He gasped in disbelief. 

“You let ivy grow from your headboard just to tie me up?! You are such a…”

He wasn’t worried about ivy irritating his skin - plants recognized him as their own by now - it was just such a Randolph-y thing to do he had to laugh and frown at the same time.

“Yes?” Randolph ran his thumb over Saul’s lower lip, then dipped it in. “Pray, continue, I’m eager to find out.”

Saul bit the digit in the lieu of the answer, then licked it. Randolph groaned and replaced the thumb with his lips. As they kissed, Saul was getting used to the feeling of having his eyes covered. The touch of Randolph’s lips was more intense this way and he could smell and taste traces of the brandy they’d had with dinner. Randolph ran his hand over Saul’s torso and eased off the bed.

“God, you are beautiful like this, stretched out for me to please you,” he said, voice gravelly with desire.

He moved away from the bed and Saul made an inquiring noise.

“I’m here, I won’t leave this room. I just need to undress.”

Saul wanted to voice a protest against being robbed of the sight of Randolph disrobing but it was equally intriguing just to imagine from the sounds of rustling clothes. He had every inch of Randolph’s body committed to memory anyway. Strong shoulders shrugging off the jacket and shirt, beautifully shaped arse and thighs as he bent over to take off his shoes, deft fingers unbuttoning his trousers… He couldn’t help but moan at that image. 

Randolph chuckled, knelt astride Saul’s torso and began to kiss Saul’s arms all the way from his wrists down, stopping on the way to give special attention to the insides of his elbows.

“Ah!”

Telling Randolph about his sensitive spots was like giving him a map to Saul’s pleasure. Not that he focused only on these but he was always determined to find out new ways to torment him in the best possible way.

“If you like this,” Randolph murmured against his skin, “let’s see how this feels.”

Saul heard a faint clattering sound as Randolph rummaged in the box he had brought. He took something out and started to drag it along the skin of Saul’s forearm. It was something rather small in diameter and very soft, the sensation bordering on tickling. It left goosebumps behind.

“Is it a brush?” Saul guessed and yelped as the line Randolph was drawing crossed a particularly sensitive spot. 

“The softest one I could find. Sable, I believe. The woman at the shop asked me about the technique I was going to use it for.” 

The smirk was audible in Randolph’s voice.

Saul huffed out a laugh. "What did you say?”

“The truth. That I was going to do calligraphy on the most delicate surface,” Randolph murmured and the brush moved over Saul’s skin with purpose now.

Saul focused on the lines his lover was tracing over his inner arms and forearms. It was difficult because the sensation was overwhelming but he thought he recognised ’my Saul’, ‘beautiful’, ‘brave’ and ’I love you’. He felt tears pushing at the corners of his eyes. He was almost sure that if he turned around and let Randolph write these words on his back long enough, they could rewrite the scars. Saul had come to terms with his past during the last year because it had led him to Randolph, but he could do without the nightmares he was still having from time to time. 

Randolph finished the long sentence he was writing (Saul didn’t catch the beginning but he was fairly sure it ended with “your cock”) with a kiss on his shoulder instead of a full stop and set the brush aside. He sat back lower this time, over Saul’s thighs.

“I would ask how that felt but this,” he gave an unexpected stroke to Saul’s leaking cock, making his toes curl in the bedsheet, “is enough of an answer.”

“Christ, Randolph! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Where would be the fun in that? Besides, I haven’t finished yet.”

Saul heard him search through the box again, wood clinking against wood, and then something very soft but much bigger than the brush swiped across his chest, brushing over both nipples. He cried out in pleasure and strained against the bonds.

“Yes,” Randolph exhaled, “I want to hear you.”

He moved on a bit over Saul to reach his arms again and Saul thought he might leave his own body soon. All the hair on his body was raised. He tried to distract himself with guessing what it was. The texture was plusher than the one of the brush. It felt like a feather - not one but many. Dear lord, was Randolph really using a feather duster on him? He wouldn't have guessed his posh lover was even aware of the existence of such a thing.

“You must be joking,” he choked out and tried very hard not to imagine Randolph in a maid dress, in which he failed. The picture that conjured up was equally hilarious and arousing. “I really hope you didn't nick that at Fetter Lane.”

Randolph huffed in outrage. “It's a brand new top quality ostrich feather duster! I would never!”

Saul grinned. He knew exactly what expression Randolph’s face was wearing even though he couldn't see it.

“Hm,” Randolph set the duster aside and shifted his weight to retrieve something from the floor. “I must be doing something wrong if you still have the strength to be insolent. Let's see if this works.”

There was a sudden intense burning sensation in the crooks of Saul’s elbows and a tiny stream of it trickling down both arms. 

It didn’t hurt, precisely, but his mind couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was that... candle wax? But he would have smelled the burning candle and he didn’t. And it wasn’t hot… Or was it? His skin was oversensitized and refused to tell him anything. 

Saul was totally disoriented until Randolph’s hot tongue licked the trickle from armpit to elbow - then the ability to think deserted him. His body arched involuntarily upwards. He was sure he wasn’t in contact with the bed for a moment there, which was no small feat with Randolph sitting on him. It was so, so good but he couldn’t bear a second more.

“Randolph, please!” Saul’s voice sounded panicky to his own ears.

Randolph stopped immediately and there was a sudden steadying pressure of his palms on Saul’s shoulders.

“Too much?”

Saul shook his head in confusion. “No... Yes. I need… fuck me. Now! I need...”

He didn’t know how to put it in words. It wasn’t about the urgent need to come. He needed to feel something solid over him, on him, in him after all the teasing. 

“Alright, keep your eyes closed, I’m going to take off the blindfold.”

The silky cloth was lifted from his face and the ivy binds disintegrated. Randolph’s hands were there instead, massaging Saul’s wrists and forearms. 

Saul slowly blinked his eyes open. Only the bedside table lamp was turned on but even that was more than enough light after the total darkness. He looked up at Randolph and angled his head for a kiss. Randolph moved from where he was straddling Saul and settled down over him, letting the weight of his body press against Saul, grounding him. As he shifted, his length slid against Saul’s impossibly hard cock and Saul let out a long moan. He wouldn’t be able to last through preparation, he thought.

“Still sure about the fucking?” Randolph asked as though he was able to read his mind (which was not difficult, really) and moved again, deliberately thorough and precise.

“Nghhh!” Saul couldn’t form words anymore.

Randolph’s hand slid between their bodies, gripping them both and squeezed lightly.

“Well?” he inquired, insufferably calm.

“Keep doing… what you’re… doing!” Saul forced out.

“As I thought,” Randolph smirked and found a rhythm. Saul had teetered on and off the brink for the last half an hour and all it took were a few firm fast strokes of Randolph’s sure hand to send him over. His lover followed him soon enough. Randolph’s arousal was always most intense when he was giving Saul pleasure.

Randolph flopped on his back next to Saul and they were both just breathing heavily for a moment.

“Do you have more things in that box of yours?” Saul asked when he could string words in a somewhat coherent order.

“Might have… Do I take it that you are open to repeating this?” Randolph asked lightly but his expression betrayed him.

“Might be… What was the last thing?” 

“Mhm?”

“That you used on me?”

Randolph pointed on the floor next to the bed. Saul leaned over and discovered a bowl full of melting ice.

“My goodness! Where did you get that?”

“Perks of serviced flats,” Randolph chuckled. “Speaking of which… bath?”

Saul rolled over on his back again and took stock of his weakened limbs. 

“Only if you carry me.”


End file.
